


Hounds have no need for love

by captainhurricane



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, Multi, relationship-study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a lone wolf always recognizes one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hounds have no need for love

”I want to see everything there is to see,” David had confessed to one of his fellows during breakfast one day. He had been alert ever since waking up, fingers tapping the table in some rhythm only he can hear.

”Good luck with that. Be careful you don’t get eaten by all there is to see,” the fellow says and nudges David with his elbow. David had nudged him back, bickered like any other twenty-something young men there. Yet even as recruits, even as bright-eyed little foxpups, they still have their teeth.

 

X

 

”Again!” Hell Master’s voice is a whip as it snaps against the running recruits, prosthetic fingers curled around the handle of a megaphone. It’s raining hard and turning the ground into a mush but there is no sign of stopping. True hounds don’t care what the weather is like after all if there is a mission to be had. Their legs burn, their lungs scream for air but the freezing water washes away sweat and tears and hides grimaces and curses spat against the ground.

A little further away, two older hounds stand leaning against a wall, safe and dry under a canopy. A sliver of grey smoke slithers from the slim cigarette held between thin, chapped lips.

”You’re staring again, David,” murmurs the older one of the two. Frank is a Fox, mind burning, eyes sharp. He’s half-animal, half-man but he has a heart that cares. David clears his throat but doesn’t look away.

 

”I’m looking at the recruits,” he murmurs but the tips of his ears are red. His gaze isn’t on the recruits, it’s on the one shouting orders. Miller may be thirty years his senior and gone through unimaginable hell but he’s an inferno of angry determination and David wants him with all the desperation of his young heart.

”You’re not,” Frank says, his arm wraps around David’s waist, his mouth finds David’s temple.

”They’re going to see,” David protests but through hard, heavy rain no one in the field is likely to notice the brief fraternization.

 

”Maybe I want them to see,” Frank murmurs, his voice low. His fingers snag David’s cigarette and toss it towards the field where it shizzles and goes out. Frank inhales the smoke David lets out and watches him through the grey trail. David glances at the object of his fiercest, wettest dreams and quickly, quickly grabs a handful of Frank’s silvery hair and kisses him on the mouth. He doesn’t say anything- he shouldn’t even do anything because Frank is the Fox, steel and sharpness and the senses of a predator in one man- and basically David’s superior. But Frank is the one who cornered him in the first place, Frank is the one who took him to his room; took him in their dressing room and got on his knees.

 

But Frank isn’t Master Miller- Frank doesn’t hold himself the same way even as he hides his true feelings better. And David has never seen Frank cry.

 

Once David had been too early for one of his training sessions with Master Miller and had witnessed something he had never confessed to anyone: Master Miller in his office, with his head bowed and his face hidden behind his hands. His shoulders had been shaking but it had been easy to tell he hadn’t been laughing.

 

X

 

When David and Frank have sex, it’s never planned. It just happens. There would be a glance, a whispered word or the appearance of both of them at the same time in the breakroom. David doesn’t mind it, still gets his hands trembling to get the intimate attention from such a feared and respected character, fervently worships the body presented for him and enjoys every single sound he manages to wrench out of Frank.

 

The FOXHOUND-days pass with David on his knees more often than not, bend over a table and taking it, groaning as Frank thrusts in and out. In and out. It’s only when Frank’s grin is there, a little thin and twisted and not really all that joyful that David gets to have him, to lay down on his own bed and have his hands on the slim, skinny body as Frank rides him until David is gasping and climaxing and crying out.

 

What David doesn’t hear is what Frank says when he has fallen asleep.

 

”You will never look at me the same,” Frank murmurs and gets up, dresses up. David groans on the bed and shifts to hug his pillow.

”Maybe one day the little snake will hunt a fox.”

 

x

 

FOXHOUND comes and FOXHOUND goes.

 

X

 

David takes on the code name of the father he doesn’t know and faces the Fox on the battlefield.

”I don’t want to do this, Frank,” David murmurs but raises his fists anyway. He can’t see Frank’s face like this, hidden behind his featureless mask and can only wonder if Frank’s mouth is twisted into one of those humourless smirks of his.

”Fight me, Snake. Don’t think about your precious Master. Fight me!” slithers Frank’s mechanized voice through his mask. David’s face tightens. The mechanisms, the electricity of the fortress around them whirrs and hisses, never shuts down. How does anyone see this place as a paradise is beyond David. He attacks first, not blinded to Frank’s movements, knowing how the Gray Fox moves and knows not to corner him- because when cornered, this fox bites harder than anything.

 

X

 

Heavens fall down around David, the only Snake with the yearning for peace in his heart even as he doesn’t realize or know it. Only knows that he’s in pain.

 

Foxhound becomes past. Frank Jaeger becomes past. Big Boss’ booming voice becomes a source of nightmares that David drowns in bottles and the soft fur of his huskies. And in the comfort of a like-minded soul, the ever-stern Master Miller who never truly opens his heart for him. But when they fuck, David clings to him, kisses him and makes sure Miller knows that he’s there if needed.

 

”Dave,” Miller grunts as he drives inside David, his hands wrapped around the strained, tight body. David tangles his fingers in long blond strands and kisses him, tries to forget that it’s sadness and booze he tastes instead of the heat he wants to find. They’re on one of their favourite positions: on their knees, Miller driving with furious force from behind, their sweaty, naked bodies completely stuck together. The prosthetic hand has been warmed up by their shared bodyheat and feels almost equally as warm as the human one.

 

”You’re, ghh, needy today,” Miller murmurs and reaches to wrap his hand around David’s throat. David squeezes his eyes shut and tries to concentrate on fucking himself on his own hand and keeping a hold of Miller’s hip.

”I, nnh, w-want you, need you,” David manages between moans and pants. He blames the sweaty, heated sex for the sting in his eyes, not at all the memories that had assaulted him earlier that had prompted him to take charge of the situation.

”So cute, David,” Miller says and licks a sweat drop from David’s neck, chokes him a little harder. David chokes, his vision dimming as his head flops back on Miller’s shoulder. Their bodies are moving against each other in unison, stuck together from head to toe. David sees nothing, feels nothing but his Master around him, inside him, finally finding his hand to give it a squeeze. Their fingers intertwine and press against David’s heaving chest.

 

”M-Mast- ah!” Miller shifts, just enough to start properly hitting David’s prostate.

”Squeeze a little, just a bit, boy,” Miller growls, sucks another of his red marks on David’s shoulder and takes a proper hold of him by the hips so he can fuck him with the force he wants. David whimpers but does as told; squeezes his buttocks together, makes sure his inner muscles press hard against Miller’s cock for a second.

”Fuck yes,” Miller snarls and then shifts again, pushes him facedown on the sheets. His prosthetic fingers are a little too hard on David’s head but David is not the one to complain, not when Miller starts truly slamming into him. The bed creaks and moves with every fierce thrust, pre-cum spraying all over the sheets, David’s muscles straining to keep him in the position Miller wants him to be.

 

”So good for me, aren’t you, boy?” Miller says, his voice nothing but a husky growl. He slaps David’s ass.

”You’re mine, aren’t you? Answer your master.” David blinks, tries to make any coherent word come out of his mouth.

”Y-yeah, y-nnh, ah! M-master!” He claws the bed sheets, fucks himself against Miller and whines in frustration when his every attempt to reach his own dick is met with a hand slapping his away.

”I want to come, t-touch me,” David groans, whining desperately when Miller just drives him through the sheets and doesn’t reach for his dick.

 

”Me first,” Miller chuckles breathlessly and does release then, straightening to massage David’s ass and making sure every last drop is milked out of his aching, throbbing red length. David’s face is red, his body strained and sweaty as Miller finally pulls out and turns him around. David hides his face, moans against his hands as Miller starts sucking him.

”Special treat for a special boy,” Miller murmurs and licks the tip.

”Come into my mouth. That’s an order.”

 

Miller doesn’t have to force his jaw open for too long- the boy truly takes after his father, his dick is impressive in both thickness and length- because soon David is whimpering and spilling, his body arching beautifully from the bed. Dutifully Miller drinks of it what he can, lets the hot salty taste spread on his tongue and lip and eagerly strokes the sensitive organ until nothing more comes out. David lets out a weak groan as Miller climbs up to him and kisses him, lets him taste himself.

 

They rarely talk afterwards, but now Miller watches the daziness and incoherency fade little by little from David’s face, words return to his kiss-bruised lips. Miller brushes them with his fingers, kisses them again. He doesn’t know that David is grateful, that a thank you is in each answering kiss. Maybe they shouldn’t have are words belonging to a past, memories of men both loved and desired and lost also belonging to past pains.


End file.
